


In The Realm Of The Impossible

by PastelBlueDahlia



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Childhood Memories, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, First Kiss, M/M, Mutual Pining, Teen Crush, Teen Romance, Tree Climbing, just a lot of tenderness, wow no angst tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 14:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14673042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PastelBlueDahlia/pseuds/PastelBlueDahlia
Summary: "You know what we should do?“That‘s how it always starts.He‘s so close that Yuuri can smell the warm, heady scent of his cologne and the sour beer on his breath, the sweetness of shots tucked into the corners of his mouth as he smiles, all knowing and all-encompassing. His body hums with need, and he wants Viktor to want the same.- - -The childhoodfriends were they're pining so fucking hard





	In The Realm Of The Impossible

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [En El Reino De lo Imposible](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14770124) by [Ice__Daddy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ice__Daddy/pseuds/Ice__Daddy)



> I know I should be writing other things but Childhoodfriends au?? I mean?? I think it's kinda obvious that this scene is taken from a longer fic (which I'll never finish) but you don't need much context except for well, they're childhoodfriends and met at a playground you know, like kids do.

 

 

“Yuuri,“ he says while their lying in the cool grass, and Yuuri answers with a quiet hum he feels all the way down his throat. Viktor rolls onto his stomach, and Yuuri hates how he doesn‘t even need to look down to know that his shirt has ridden up, heated naked skin against tickling grass. In his alcohol bemused state he thinks that maybe he‘s doing that on purpose.  
  
"You know what we should do?"  
  
That‘s how it always starts.  
  
Even though Viktor says it with so much vigor and barely suppressed excitement it‘s a completely practiced, unchanging thing. Yuuri guesses that this makes him a good actor. When he says that line it never means _hey, let‘s get some Ben and Jerry‘s and draw the curtains and block out the summer for a few hours_. It never means _hey, let‘s make out because I finally noticed how much you love me_ , or even just _let‘s make out because I noticed you‘re a boy too which means I don‘t have to go to parties anymore to make out with strangers, that would be less time-consuming_. It‘s laughable, with how little Yuuri would be satisfied with at this point.  
  
He‘s an  addict and he craves that fake spontaneity, that practiced line like someone reading their favorite book the millionths time, a film junkie who knows the dialogue by heart.  
  
And because it‘s a dialogue he already knows what he‘s going to say, over and over and over again.  
  
He knows the script, knows his lines, so he says _yes_ and _yes_ and _yes_ , only half aware of what he‘s saying yes to, and then Viktor ushers him into his car, excitement in his bright eyes and in the way he presses his lips together, a bad habit that developed when Macy, a girl that would later try to cut the ends of Viktor‘s hair, said to him he would always talk too much, was childish, which is ironically one of the worst things you can say to a child. Yuuri still hates her.  
  
Viktor likes to drive with open windows, and Yuuri finds that the cool night air feels good against his flushed cheeks, and he peeks over to Viktor, to the way his expression shifts to blankness then to a smile then to something akin to concern while his long hair whirls around him, and it feels like the wind will only ever do that with Viktor‘s hair, he who seems to be so loved by god.  
  
Yuuri wishes his hair would reach all the way over to him, would tickle his cheek. He wants to spin Viktor‘s hair around his finger and wear it as a ring.  
  
He knows his face is glowing from heat, and he wonders if it‘s because of the alcohol or if the streetlamps warm him or if it's the knowledge that it would take him less than a second to reach out and touch Viktor‘s knobbly knee, to sink his fingers into the sharp, round dips of it. The way he wants to pick up a biology book just so he can name another thing of Viktor. The way he wants Viktor to want the same.  
  
He realizes then when the car comes to a halt that he has absolutely no clue what he signed up for when they pull up by the moon crater playground, Viktor‘s smile a sharp crescent in the moonlight. His teeth the color of his nails after he paints them with opaque white in boring lessons.  
  
Viktor doesn‘t say a thing as he walks, and then stumbles across the dewy grass towards The Tree.  
  
The Tree is so old and big that the lowest branches are so far up that by the time you finally managed to climb up you‘re dizzy from the height. It‘s hard to climb because there‘s almost nothing to hold on to, and it‘s even harder for children, but that never stopped Viktor with 11 and won‘t stop him now with 17.  
  
Yuuri walks up to him as he runs up, digs his vans into the way too smooth surface of The Tree, and then within 4 seconds he somehow manages to scramble up and pull himself on a large branch, knees spread far apart and his spine bent as he huffs out a little breath. Then his gaze drifts to Yuuri, like he forgot he was even there, and he smiles smugly at him. Yuuri is so fucking tempted to just reach out and pull on his foot but he‘s sure that Viktor would get hurt pretty badly or that they would end up in an awkward situation. In a Getting-The-Teeth-Of-Your-Crush-Knocked-Against-Your-Nose-And-Getting-A-Nosebleed-That-Lasts-For-An-Embarrassing-Long-Time type of awkward situation.  
  
“Come on up, old man,“ Viktor says, his elbows braced on his knees, and because Yuuri is drunk and wants nothing more than just impress Viktor and probably also because sitting in a tree with Viktor is his unfulfilled childhood dream he takes a deep breath before running towards The Tree.  
  
Thankfully he remembers in the last second that he has to get up there somehow, so he jumps, arms and legs coming around the girth of The Tree, cheek presses against the scratchy surface of it and his glasses crooked.  
  
“Oh my god,“ Viktor screeches, “You look like- like those squirrels, with skin between their arms. Fuck, what are they called?“ he laughs, his whole face crinkling up so badly it looks like he‘s close to crying. Yuuri can‘t help but crack a smile, but he fears that an ant will crawl into his mouth so he closes it.  
  
“I can't fucking move,“ he grits through his teeth, arms already shaking from exertion.  
  
“Just let go and try again,“ Viktor laughs, voice airy and light with amusement. So Yuuri glances down, slowly loosen his grip and slides down a couple of centimeters until his jeans catch on the bark of The Tree and he falls the rest of the way.  
  
Viktor laughs so hard Yuuri fears he‘ll fall of The Tree.  
  
“Ha ha,“ Yuuri says unimpressed and gets up, the whole world rolling with him before he finally stands on shaky feet, “ _Fuck_ ,“ he huffs out and braces his hands on his knees, trying _very hard_ to not look as drunk as he feels.  
  
“Good luck with trying to come up here now,“ Viktor laughs, a night cracking and skin breaking sound. “You have to take a run-up and hold on to my hand,“ he says helpfully.  
  
“Fuck this shit,“ Yuuri murmurs towards the grass, but Viktor hears it anyway and snorts. Yuuri wonders if he will ever make it up that tree, and then he thinks that this is maybe the last time he gets to do this, his very last chance to sit on that tree with Viktor, their last indulge in childhood memories other people will roll their eyes to, and Yuuri knows that this will change in just a year, that people will see them and wonder how they‘re ever going to survive at college, these two stupid, insane man children who play in moon craters with heads that are filled to the brim with wishes and way too much nostalgia for such young, young boys and with thoughts only people have who climb trees for no reason at all.  
  
His gaze flickers up to Viktor, sitting there all pale with way too long limbs, the way his grin knocks the world right into Yuuri, and then he sprints forwards, jumps up and grabs Viktor‘s hand and then gets pulled up with surprising strength, practically landing in Viktor‘s lap.  
  
“Woah there,“ Viktor chuckles hoarse against his ear. His hand pressed into the soft space under his shoulder blade that feels so vulnerable Yuuri almost wants to pull away but at the same time wants this _forever forever forever._ His sneakers are still tucked into the ridges of The Tree, helping him to not slide off completely, and then he shifts and Viktor is so close Yuuri goes dizzy with what he could have.  
  
He‘s so close that Yuuri can smell the warm, heady scent of his  cologne and the sour beer on his breath, the sweetness of shots tucked into the corners of his mouth as he smiles, all knowing and all-encompassing.  
  
The space under his shoulder blade grows hot and his body hums in want.  
  
The bark of The Tree is digging uncomfortably into his skin, and as he readjusts his hand his pointer strokes the firm muscle of Viktor‘s naked thigh, and Yuuri knows that Viktor can‘t see him blushing but they‘re so close that he‘s sure he can feel the glowing red of his face radiating off him, the feverish want, the pounding of his heart.  
  
And then Viktor‘s smile slowly dies on his face like a flower in fast motion as he sucks in a sharp breath, the way he never sounds, writhing under Yuuri‘s gaze like this was just as new to him as it is for Yuuri, and Yuuri feels so much it‘s like his insides are burning, like he spends his time going up and down and up in an elevator, his body never quite getting used to the changes, and isn‘t that a perfect metaphor to how it feels to be with Viktor?  
  
He wonders if maybe that‘s the whole appeal of first kisses. The fact that there‘s so much undiscovered vastness that becomes reachable in the blink of an eye, dizzying in how eyeopening, box wrecking it is.  
  
Yuuri doesn‘t think about it when he reaches out and his fingertips dip into the soft, damp strands of hair at the back of Viktor‘s neck and Viktor looks at the space between them, his expression unreadable, and when Yuuri‘s thumb barely grazes his soft cheek, Viktor turns his head away with an almost sorrowful cant of his eyebrows. It reminds him of praying hands. Yuuri doesn‘t even get the chance to feel even a little satisfied or happy at the fact that Viktor‘s cheek was glowing.  
  
Viktor is an incredible vocal person, except for the times he doesn‘t want to hurt someone. Yuuri doesn‘t know if he should feel grateful for his carefulness or be hurt that Viktor thinks of him as not in any way different than all the other guys who misinterpreted Viktor‘s easy going, lively personality as an invitation that allows them to think of doing unspeakable things to him.  
  
“Try sitting next to me,“ Viktor breathes and cracks a shy smile as he loosens the grip around Yuuri‘s body.  
  
Through some shifting that should, would be awkward if the situation would be different, he finally manages to sit on the branch.  
  
The view of their shoes pointing into dark nothingness makes Yuuri sick. So he looks up instead, and it‘s strange how the leafs look black against the dark sky, and he wonders if maybe it‘s because of this strange night that his heart doesn‘t feel as broken, as hurt as it should. Maybe because everything that happened tonight seems barely in the realm of the possible.  
  
He looks back at Viktor, and he thinks _I love you, and I don‘t know how to stop this. I think I‘ve loved you all my life._  
  
He ignores the pinch in his chest and because his mind won‘t shut up with the way it is now he blurts out: “I always thought the air would be way thinner up here,“ because it‘s true and there‘s no filter and because it seems like just the right kind of strange that would make Viktor laugh. And he‘s right with that assumption: Viktor really laughs and hits him against his biceps. “You‘re such a fucking dork,“ he laughs and rolls his big eyes like always, lips tugged in only a hint of a smile like always, and Yuuri gets dizzy watching him. Like always.  
  
The Tree is colder and harder than he expected.  
  
“Look at that,“ Viktor says. A reverent thing has creeped into his voice as he watches over their moon crater playground like a mother watching fondly over a sleeping child in her lap. And Yuuri lets his eyes wander and he sees the sandbox where everything began, and he sees the swings Viktor used to wrap himself in and spun in a circle until he was nothing but a silver whirl, and he sees the slide and the monkeybars and he wonders if all these things always looked so small, so run-down and old, or if they only look like this from up here.  
  
“Can you imagine that this used to be our whole world?“ he whispers. Something thick makes his voice sound strange. So Yuuri looks away from their world and he sees the way Viktor‘s head is inclined slightly, his spine bent, and his heart tugs in all cardinal directions at how lost he looks, how young. He‘s still the boy who waited all alone at the bus stop, kicking the dirt up until it whirled around his ankles like tsunamis. He's still the boy with that tooth gap, is still slipping out of his mothers shoes.  
  
Yuuri wants to say something to make him not look like that, but his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth and his head is cotton and he was never good at finding the right words. He wants to trace the line of his nose, the soft space above his eyes and under his eyebrows, that unremarkable little patch of skin that catches the light like a raindrop.  
  
Yuuri wants so much he feels choked up with it.  
  
“Viktor,“ he says, and he feels himself tipping something in him over, maybe even on purpose, and he knows that Viktor notices how his throat also gets thick with all these unspoken things. “We‘re not the ones who were left behind. _We_ left. “  
  
And he looks up. And there's Viktor. And Yuuri wants to tell him so much suddenly, wants to apologize for so much, and his heart is racing because it feels like this is his very last chance to redeem himself. It would be fitting, that the boy who Yuuri always used to think came from the moon would vanish in a moon crater.  
  
“It isn't- isn't a _place_ , Viktor, it's about the _people_ ,“ Yuuri can't look him in the face so he concentrates on his shoes and how their hovering above the air and his hands sweat and he knows one wrong move and he‘ll fall. “The _people_ were our world. And people change. _We_ change. Some becomes everyone's world and others- others are nobody‘s world at all. “  
  
Viktor huffs, and Yuuri concentrates only on the smile on his face, a slowly spreading thing that reminds Yuuri of the way butter melts in a pan.  
  
“There are only two sides of the spectrum? Nothing in between?“ he asks, and Yuuri thinks that maybe he exposed too much of his thoughts.  
  
“I think so,“ he answers, shrugging with a smile that feels so awkward on his face he wants to scrub it off.  
  
It takes him a second too long to realize that the sound of rustling clothing comes from Viktor and not from the leafs, and then his arm snakes around Yuuri‘s nape. The hard smoothness of his arm, that sweet, slow burning thing in his chest, his cheeks, his skin, like a flower blooming. Viktor‘s gaze is so intense in the dark it's like he wants to tell Yuuri to run away from this, a hard shell that only shows his uncertainty in his eyes, in the turn of his mouth. But Yuuri can‘t run, won‘t.  
  
Viktor‘s fingers are cold with flat fingertips, the way he maybe imagines piano player fingers should be, and then his nails graze over the sensitive, goosepimpled skin of Yuuri‘s nape, and the feeling of it is so spine-crawling teeth-gnashingly overwhelmingly good he sucks in a breath, his shoulders tensing automatically as it zings straight to the pit of his stomach and all the way to his cheeks, warming his toes and fingertips.  
  
It‘s not that Yuuri never imagined this happening, but there‘s a huge difference to experiencing the real thing and using these thoughts as something to get off to.  
  
Yuuri never thought of the Before.  
  
His mind always skipped straight to kissing, to groping and fucking, and now he‘s completely unprepared for the tingle that settles on his body, like it changes to link itself to Viktor‘s. The way he can‘t hide against Viktor‘s eyes that seem to dismantle him to the bone.  
  
He wants so badly to be kissed it aches.  
  
“It‘s okay,“ Yuuri murmurs, maybe more to himself than to him, and then Viktor leans forward.  
  
When he pulls away he leaves something wet and soft at Yuuri‘s bottom lip. He almost wants to stick his tongue out and taste it, wants to chase it like a falling snowflake.  
  
Viktor‘s eyes are round with wonder, his whole face trembling with so many emotions it makes Yuuri ache. He wants to take his face in his hands and shake him and scream _are you an idiot? This is what I wanted all along!_  
  
The seconds pass slowly like clouds over their heads, and Yuuri wonders about all this new time he has been granted with Viktor. He almost wants to ask about it, but then Viktor clears his throat and huffs out a laugh, face naked with disbelief as he runs his fingers through his hair.  
  
“Fuck, I- I actually wanted to say something really gay and romantic, but I forgot, what the hell,“ he blurts out. And he cants his fingers into a tent over the lower part of his face and looks back at Yuuri like he expects him to be angry.  
  
“Say it now,“ Yuuri says, and it comes out far more demanding that he intended, and he shifts forward because it feels like he‘s allowed in Viktor‘s space, and Viktor lifts his hands and breathes out hard like Yuuri asked him to do a chore, and then he pops a smile and directs it at the corner of Yuuri‘s mouth, an unsure, trembling thing that doesn‘t fit Viktor, his eyes too big in his face with all his half childish, half grownup glory.  
  
“I-,“ he starts, and Yuuri begs silently _say anything, say it‘s okay for me to be here, I will take everything._ The alcohol and the kiss make him dizzy, lightheaded.  
  
Viktor laughs and reaches out to cup Yuuri‘s face. His hands are damp, and Yuuri thinks _oh. So Viktor gets nervous too._ He drops a kiss to Yuuri‘s cheek and nose and the corner of his mouth like a small present, and Yuuri makes a soft surprising noise that makes Viktor laugh.  
  
“ _God_ , you‘re so adorable,“ he says with so much delight Yuuri‘s throat goes thick with it.  
  
And he stops. And he breathes out “I love you,“ like it‘s the last thing he will ever say. And before Yuuri can respond Viktor jumps off the branch.  
  
Yuuri‘s scream gets stuck in his throat and comes out as squeak.  
  
“Viktor!“ he whispers and then feels stupid for whispering. Viktor groans in pain, crouching in the grass, and Yuuri‘s heart is so full of concern and with the thought _fuck , how do I get down from here_ that he blurts out “Don‘t you dare hurt yourself right after you became mine!“  
  
Viktor huffs out a laugh and stands up just to turn on his heel, facing Yuuri as he throws himself on the ground with flourish.  
  
And as he lies there in the grass, arms and legs outstretched in all their pale litheness with his dirty knees and all his unknown, unnamed bones and dips Viktor takes a deep, deep breath, and with a voice that trembles and sounds way too young and fragile with awe he breathes:  
  
“I am, aren‘t I?“  
  
And Yuuri wants to shout all the way to the moon and back _you‘re mine mine mine._

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this! Please give me feedback, I run on comments and love and writing is fucking hard
> 
> My tumblr is www.its-peach-bleach.tumblr.com


End file.
